


build me up, buttercup

by cherrykirsch



Series: of flowers and thorns [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (through sex), Alternate Universe, Comfort/Angst, Depressed Oikawa Tooru, Depression, Disassociation, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Hanahaki AU, Healing, Healthy Relationships, Hypersexuality, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Iwaizumi Hajime, Recovery, References to Depression, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sickfic, Therapy, Trauma, Triggers, hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrykirsch/pseuds/cherrykirsch
Summary: “I missed you a lot you know. Especially when I wasn’t sure if you were okay, I’m glad you are now.” Hajime says sincerely before he starts rifling through the cupboard.Tooru shrugs noncommittally and pokes at the rice cooker. “I wouldn’t say I’m okay.” He says quietly. “I’m getting better. Not okay. But better.”Hajime pauses, considering, before he looks back to Tooru with a smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re getting better then.” He says and Tooru, encouraged, smiles.





	1. i don't recognise myself in the mirror/i feel like i'm floating away

**Author's Note:**

> For my wonderful boyfriend — who sticks with me through thick and thin, and who always makes me feel safe.
> 
> You mean the world to me, I love you more than I can say.

Tooru is sixteen, and he is suffocating.

He is staring blankly up at a ceiling that isn’t his own, it doesn’t have the glow-in-the-dark star stickers plastered all over it, and he is uneasy, it stirs in his belly until he can’t stand it anymore and he has to clamber up out of this unfamiliar bed and into the nearest bathroom. He slumps over the sink and retches until he can’t anymore, then he looks up into the smudgy mirror and eyes the red petals clinging to his lips and swipes them off with a hand. He scoops up the flower heads in the sink and dumps them into the toilet and looks back into the mirror.

He doesn’t recognize the person staring back at him.

As Tooru flushes, a pair of hands slip around his waist, he feels lips pressing a feather-light kiss that he wants to recoil from in the middle of his back. But he doesn’t move away, he turns around and smiles at the person in front of him.

They are nameless and blank; he hardly hears them when they speak. “Are you alright, Oikawa? Do you want… to go back to bed?”

He doesn’t. Not really.

Instead he smiles and presses a kiss to their exposed collar bone. “I’m fine.” He says, and it makes him feel sick. “I’d love to.”

In the morning, he won’t call back. This person will be just that, one more person. Hajime will be mad, he’ll scold him for getting someone into his bed on a school night, he’ll tell Tooru that he should know better. But, as he takes This Person’s hand and allows them to lead him to their bed, watching as they shuck off their night shirt like a second skin, vulnerable, bare, all for him — he can’t bring himself to care.

Like this, basking in the scent and feeling of another person, it makes him everything he is not without it. He feels invincible.

And, as he reaches out to cup This Person’s face with his hands and capture their lips with his own, he ignores how repulsed he knows he will be in the morning. He ignores all of it in favor of the pleasure, of feeling more than broken. 

He hates himself for it. 

* * *

Hajime is smiling triumphantly in front of him as he lounges on an armchair in the common room, waving around some piece of paper that Tooru doesn’t particularly care about. He has his own problems currently, mostly trying to paint his nails ‘Cuddle Bug’ which had confused him to no end when Kiyoko had gifted it to him. It was a rather pleasant shade of pale green.

He didn’t quite know what was ‘Cuddle Bug’ about it.

“I have good news.” Hajime says enthusiastically as Tooru looks up at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“Did someone invent a nail polish that doesn’t have a bullshit paint color name?” He asks, tilting his nails back in front of himself with a frown. “I don’t even know if I like this shade…”

Hajime rolls his eyes and swats Tooru on the arm, ignoring when Tooru yelps about the risk of spilt nail polish. “No, idiot,” he says and Tooru pouts. “You can be discharged now. I’ve told Takeda and Ukai that you can live with me, seeing as we go to the same university.”

Tooru falls silent, stares down at his nails with renewed vigor. “I don’t know if I want roommates.” He says dismissively. “Don’t you have that guy living with you? The one with the hair and the eyes?” Tooru says vaguely and Hajime fixes him with a deadpan.

“People tend to have eyes and hair, Kurokawa.” Hajime says before he shrugs dismissively. “He moved out.”

Tooru perks up at that, trying to stop a smile stretching his lips. “He did?” he questions. “When?”

Hajime shifts slightly on his feet. “A week or two ago; he wanted to move in with someone who had the same major.” He fixes Tooru with a serious look. “Well? What do you say? Wanna move in with me, Oikawa?”

Tooru stares up at him a minute before he finally smiles. “I would totally hug you right now if my nails weren’t drying.” He said seriously. “You’re so super cool, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime bends down to Tooru’s level, his own serious look on his face. “If they smudge, I’ll repaint your nails myself. So, give me a hug, Tooru, you beautiful idiot.”

For a moment, they stare at each other and then Tooru grins and throws his arms around Hajime’s neck. He doesn’t really care about his nails; they can be repainted. He basks in the feeling of Hajime’s hands around his waist, they’re a welcome and warm weight, comforting even and he knows that the only person he ever wants touching him from this point onwards Is Hajime.

After all, Hajime is his best friend. The man he’s always loved.

Tentatively Tooru thinks that moving in with Hajime could be a good thing. Maybe it would be okay to wake up with the person he knows the best and trusts the most, maybe it would be good to start his life again.

“Okay,” Tooru says before he pulls back to look Hajime in the eye. “I’ll move in with you.” 

Hajime smiles so wide that it makes Tooru breathless. “I’m glad.” He says. “I love you.”

Despite the relentless pounding in his chest Tooru places a smacking kiss to Hajime’s cheek. “I love you too.”

Tooru remembers where he is and slowly slinks back into his seat, a pink flush on his cheeks as he lifts his hands up to pat them. Hajime just smiles and reaches out to pat him gently on the head, ignoring the way Tooru protests when he does, knowing it was halfhearted.

“When would I be moving in?” Tooru asks curiously, smoothing down his hair when Hajime retreats. “Have Takeda and Ukai approved? Does that mean I’d be leaving before or after Shou?”

Hajime hands the piece of paper over to Tooru, tapping the bottom of the page. “I already got Ukai and Takeda’s signatures and a leaving date. All you need to do is sign to show you consent to it.” He says as Tooru’s eyes flit up and down the page. “I didn’t read all the conditions, I just signed the bit they told me to. I thought you should be the one to read all of it.” 

Inside his chest, Tooru’s heart warms and he smiles happily to himself. “That’s very good of you, Iwa.” Tooru says proudly as he reaches out to pinch Hajime’s cheek, his smile stretching further when Hajime grumbles but allows his action. “You’re such a good partner.” 

At that, Hajime’s eyebrow shoots up. “Partners?” He asks. “Like in the cowboy movies?” 

Tooru flushes. “No… I mean like…” He flounders, flustered by Hajime’s questioning. “Significant other…”

Hajime chuckles and reaches out to place his hand over Tooru’s. “You can call me your boyfriend if you like.” He says and Tooru goes as red as a tomato. “Or your partner, or your whatever-the-fuck-you-want. I don’t care, as long as we’re together. That’s all that matters.”

Tooru coos and cups Hajime’s head in his hands. “You are sappier than a pine tree. And I’m proud to call you my boyfriend.” He says with a grin. “The only condition I have for us moving in together is Saturdays watching alien documentaries.” 

Hajime nose wrinkles at the sound of the words ‘alien’ and ‘documentaries’ being used in a sentence together but he nods anyway. “Okay. Sounds good.” He agrees. “I’ll make sure we have milk bread the day you move in.” 

“I knew I kept you around for a reason.” Tooru says happily as he reaches out to boop Hajime on the nose. “Good boyfriend.”

With an affectionate sigh Hajime reaches out to ruffle Tooru’s hair again. “Good boyfriend.” He says back.

Tooru beams.

* * *

A week later Tooru finds himself standing in the genkan of a slightly familiar apartment.

He toes off his shoes and steps up onto the wooden floor, looking around to scan his surroundings. The walls in the living room were no longer bare but instead had frames carrying Godzilla posters hanging from them. Tooru smiles at that and drops his bags beside the sofa to pick up a frame resting on the coffee table, his grin stretching further when he sees the photo inside.

It’s one of the photos they took of the team just before graduation, all smiling at the camera. His eyes flit back to the table where a smaller frame containing a picture of Hajime and Tooru after graduation rests.

Tooru places the frame back down when he hears Hajime come up behind him.

“You’re so sentimental Iwa-chan,” Tooru coos as Hajime huffs and picks up his bags, turning on his heel to place them in his new room. “I didn’t know you had photos of me and the team! That’s so sweet!”

“Of course I’m sentimental. And, of course, I have photos.” Hajime tells him as Tooru him follows him from the bedroom to the kitchen. “I missed you a lot you know. Especially when I wasn’t sure if you were okay, I’m glad you are now.” He says sincerely before he starts rifling through the cupboard.

Tooru shrugs noncommittally and pokes at the rice cooker. “I wouldn’t say I’m okay.” He says quietly. “I’m getting better. Not okay. But better.”

Hajime pauses, considering, before he looks back to Tooru with a smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re getting better then.” He says and Tooru, encouraged, smiles. “Milk bread?” he asks and Tooru nods enthusiastically, reaching out with a grabbing motion to Hajime.

“Gimme.” Tooru says happily.

Hajime rolls his eyes and tosses a milk bread roll to Oikawa. “Don’t be rude.” He says and Tooru scoffs as he opens the packaging and takes his first bite, humming happily. “Do you want to go out tonight and catch up with old friends?” He asks and Tooru thinks, chewing slowly.

“Who?” He asks.

“Uh… Yahaba and Tobio.” Hajime replies and Tooru’s face hardens. “It’ll be the first time they’ve seen you since you went into hospital.”

 Tooru huffs, turns and pads out of the kitchen and into the living room. “I don’t want to go out.” He says.

“Okay,” Hajime agrees, following after him. “We’ll stay in. Watch some documentaries.”

Just as Tooru is about to agree he pauses, thinking before he turns to Hajime. “You can go out.” He says. “I don’t mind.”

Hajime looks at him. “That’s really okay with you?” He asks, watching Tooru nod, unconvinced. “It’s your first day back. I don’t want to leave you alone. I’m not going out.”

“I don’t want to keep you.” Tooru mumbles into his bread.

“Hey.” Hajime says seriously and Tooru looks at him. “I’m not gonna leave you okay? And you’re not keeping me; I want to stay. Yahaba and Tobio will just have to wait for another day.” Tooru looks away. “What do you want to do tonight?”

Tooru thinks for a moment as he finishes off his milk bread roll. “Help me unpack and then we’ll watch documentaries?” He suggests and Hajime smiles. 

“Sounds good.” He says. “Tea or alcohol?”

“Tea.” Tooru replies as Hajime heads back into the kitchen. “I don’t drink.”

Hajime chuckles at that and Tooru smiles nervously. “You’re certainly not like the Oikawa Tooru I remember.” He says as he opens the cupboard over his head and takes down a mug before he reaches into the fridge for a beer for himself. “A lot has changed.” 

Tooru nods slowly, watching as Hajime fills up the kettle and puts it on to boil. “Yeah.” He agrees before he hesitates, looking down at his slippers. “Is that bad?”

His voice is small and tentative and Hajime turns to him. “Of course not.” Hajime tells him, padding over to Tooru so he can caress his cheek and stroke back his hair. “It just means I have to relearn you, that’s all. A few things are different, and of course you’ve changed. I look forward to getting to know you all over again.”

The kettle whistles, stops bubbling furiously and Hajime smiles at Tooru one last time before he pads back over to it, dropping a tea bag into the mug before he pours the boiling water over it. Wordlessly, and without Tooru having to tell him, he reaches back into the fridge for the milk to pour into the mug and dumps three laden spoons of sugars into it before he hands the mug over to Tooru.

Tooru smiles. “You’re such a sap, Iwa-chan.” He teases as he lifts the mug to his lips to take a sip. “You remembered how I like my tea and got me milk bread.”

Hajime just rolls his eyes and swats at Tooru’s arm as he giggles and leads Hajime into his room, taking a long gulp of his tea before he places it on his dresser and reaches for the first box. Hajime sits cross-legged on the floor and digs into the first box, groaning when inside he finds Tooru’s collection of cryptid and alien memorabilia. 

From its depths Hajime pulls a Mothman plush and holds it up to Tooru. “You still believe this stuff?” he asks, and, when Tooru looks over he pouts. “There’s no way that there could be a moth… thing the size of a man."

Tooru marches over and snatches the plush from Hajime, clutching it to his chest to stroke its head softly. “That’s what a non-believer would say.” Tooru comments haughtily. “What kind of a man would tell another that something doesn’t exist? What if I told you that Godzilla and Mothra don’t exist?” 

“I know they don’t exist.” Hajime says with a shrug of his shoulders. “They’re not real.”

“There’s nowhere that says Mothman doesn’t exist.” Tooru says.

Hajime falls silent at that and then glares down at the box. “I hate when you’re right.” He says as Tooru smiles triumphantly and places the Mothman plush on his bedside table. Hajime pushes the box of ‘things-that-maybe exist’ memorabilia away from him and choses a much smaller one, tearing it open to find it full to the brim with makeup. “Do you have any containers for this stuff?”

Tooru nods and tears open another box to retrieve his plastic makeup storage, smiling as he hands it to Hajime. “I’ll trust you to organize them nicely, Iwa-chan.” He says as Hajime gently tips all the makeup onto the carpet and begins placing things down. “Meanwhile I’m going to unpack my unmentionables and high fashion.”

Hajime frowns at an eyelash curler as he fiddles with it. “Just say your underwear and clothes like a normal person.” He says before he looks to Tooru, thrusting the eyelash curler at him. “What the fuck is this? Is it some kind of torture contraption?” 

Tooru coos and wiggles his way through the labyrinth of boxes to pinch Hajime’s cheek. “Oh, Iwa-chan!” He cries affectionately, hardly bothered when Hajime smacks his hand away. “You’re so clueless! It’s a cute look on you.”

“Shut up.” Hajime mutters. “Go back to folding your underwear.”

“Fine, fine!” Tooru concedes after Hajime looks about ready to smack him again, giggling slightly as he makes his way back to his boxes of clothes and his dresser. “Try not to injure yourself on my beauty supplies. Or, as you call them, torture weapons.”

Hajime scowls.

They lapse into a comfortable silence as Hajime organizes Tooru’s make-up while Tooru hums as he folds and stores away his clothes. Only when he spots something familiar, does he stop dead for a moment before taking the garment into his arms to caress the stitching on the inside label and the fabric. 

Hajime looks up and over to him. “What’s up? You stopped humming.” He says, before he looks down at Tooru’s hands and stills. “Oh… Tooru…” 

“Remember when we used to wear these all the time?” Tooru asks as he looks over to Hajime, straining to put on a brave face. “You used to tie yours around your waist and I’d yell… you kept creasing yours and the arms were too stretched out. We were a team then, you and I. When we wore these. I loved this jersey.” 

The Aoba Johsai jersey looks now just a little bit too small for Tooru, and that gives him a certain melancholy feeling that he can’t quite place. After all, he hadn’t worn it since first year. Before everything happened and he got hospitalized. Not being able to play hit him hard, and, after a while, he just didn’t return to the team; he’s sure that if he got on a court now (not that he would, his doctor told him not to) he wouldn’t know what to do. 

Volleyball used to be his life.

His present and his bright, beautiful future.

Now it was just his history, something that would never be repeated. His lungs were too weak for it.

“Tooru.” Hajime says and Tooru’s watering eyes flit over to him. “You don’t have to keep that, y’know. If it’s too hard for you. With you not being able to do volleyball anymore.”

Slowly, Tooru shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I want to keep it. I think. To remind me of all the good times, I’ve had with you on the team.”

Hajime almost looks flattered, and then he places down the foundation brush in his hand and looks very seriously at Tooru. “We’re still a team now. I’m your biggest supporter, I’m Team Tooru.” He tells him and Tooru flushes red, lifting a sleeve of the jersey to cover the lower half of his face. “I’m always going to be here for you, and I’m always gonna want the best for you.”

Tooru stares at Hajime, speechless before he starts smiling into the jersey sleeve. “Hajime…” He whispers quietly. “That’s so cute.”

“It’s not cute!” Hajime protests, his cheeks bright pink. “It’s an honest declaration. I mean it, Tooru.”

“You’re not Mister Darcy coming to ask for Elizabeth Bennet’s hand in marriage!” Tooru says, giggling as Hajime blinks at him owlishly, thoroughly confused at the words coming out of Tooru’s mouth. “You’re a twenty-one-year-old man who’s studying law at a University in Tokyo! You’re so serious all the time, Iwa-chan.”

After a moment, Hajime scowls. “I was trying to have a moment, Trashikawa!” He protests as Tooru giggles at his outburst. 

Tooru pats Iwaizumi gently on his arm, giving him a sympathetic pout. Hajime hates how Tooru doesn’t seem fazed by his glare. “I know, and I respect that.” He says before he clears his throat and settles himself opposite from Hajime, their knees touching as Tooru stares deeply into his eyes. “I’m team Hajime.” Tooru tells Hajime. “I’m always going to be there for you, and support you for everything. I’m so proud of you and only want the best for you.” 

Hajime blinks at Tooru and Tooru watches as Hajime sniffs once, his eyes welling up with tears before he squeezes then shut and turns away to furiously wipe at them. Tooru immediately dissolves into coos and a wide smile. 

“Oh, Iwa-chan!” He says as he lifts himself onto his knees to wrap Hajime in his arms. “Don’t cry! You’re so emotional.”

Hajime struggles half-heartedly for a moment before he settles into Tooru’s arms, burying his face into Tooru’s chest. “Shut up.” He grumbles as Tooru chuckles. “I hate you really.”

Tooru smiles.

“I love you too.” He says before he reaches into his box of nail polishes and brings out a sparkly blue. “Lemme paint your nails, Iwa-chan.” 

“After we unpack your stuff.” Hajime says and as Tooru scowls, Hajime reaches up to pinch his cheek. “Don’t make that face. You know, if the wind blows the wrong way your face will be stuck like that.”

Tooru pulls away from Hajime’s grip and scowls deeper. “Don’t mention my face in a negative connotation, Iwa-chan, that’s the highest form of evil.” Hajime chuckles and Tooru crawls over to his box and pulls out a long scarf, wrapping it around his own neck with a flourish. “You’ve committed a crime.”

Hajime points a blush brush at Tooru. “That’s a little dramatic don’t you think?”

Tooru raises his eyebrow. “Me? Dramatic?” He asks as he pluck a large hat from a box and places it on his head. “Never.”

“You look like Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” Hajime says and Tooru gasps happily, a grin stretching his lips.

“Hajime.” Tooru says, crawling back over to clasp Hajime’s hand in his as he stares very deeply and sincerely into his eyes. “That’s the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me.”

Hajime whistles lowly. “You have very low standards for someone being nice to you.” He says, laughing when Tooru pulls his hat from his head and begins to smack Iwaizumi on the arm with it. “I’m kidding! Stop hitting me, Kurokawa!”

Tooru pouts and frisbees the hat back into the box. “Thin line, Hajime,” Tooru warns ominously as Hajime rolls his eyes, takes a long gulp of his beer and slots makeup into the holders, hardly watching as Tooru begins placing his shirts into the chest of drawers in his wardrobe. “Thin line.”

For a while, they sort in silence. Tooru moves on from his shirts to his socks and underwear, and Hajime begins arranging Tooru’s books on the bookshelf above his desk.

“Hey,” Hajime says, and Tooru’s eyes snap up, his consciousness returning from the world he’d been sucked into while sorting. “I’m going to get another beer; do you want another tea? Or something cold?”

Tooru considers this carefully. “Soda?” He asks, grinning when Hajime nods and heads for the door. “Thank you, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime makes a noise of agreement from the kitchen. Tooru turns back to his box of underwear and socks, and he pauses very suddenly, his hands trembling.

In an instant, Tooru feels like his entire being has left his body, and that he’s staring at himself from a third-person perspective. Like those video games Kuroo and Bokuto used to play in the ward. Weeks could have passed by in the moment it takes Tooru to blink and place the socks back in the box, bringing his knees up to his chin so he can wrap his arms around himself and hug them tight. 

Some separated part of himself is terrified, but the part that is present, most prominent, the part that keep him tethered to the semblance that is his body, is not. Like this, he doesn’t feel, not emotionally, not physically – actually, Tooru feels like he’s floating away slowly but surely, unaware of the hard wood floor beneath him despite being sat on it.

Fingernails, his, dig into his forearms, sharp and jagged and hard. He will bruise. But he feels. His arms tingle with the sensation of it, so he digs in harder. He feels.

Then, he remembers Hajime.

“Hajime.” Tooru calls, his voice hoarse, and he can hear Hajime still in the kitchen. “Hajime. I need you, okay? Can you come in here?”

He hears the clatter of something (a cap opener maybe) dropping into the sink, turning his head towards the door just as Hajime rounds the corner into the room, and, if he could, Tooru would feel guilty about the utterly anxious look on his face. Instead, Tooru just drinks in Hajime as he approaches. 

“What is it?” Hajime asks as he kneels in front of Tooru, prying his claw-like grip from his arms to grasp firmly at his hands. “What’s the matter? Is it another attack? Do you need your suppressors?” 

Tooru shakes his head and grips at Hajime tighter, he feels light headed and heavy all at once. “No.” He says and he feels Hajime relax in front of him. “I’m just disassociating. I need you here to help me because I feel like I’m floating away.”

“Just disassociating?” Hajime repeats in disbelief. “You’re very calm about feeling detached.” 

Tooru sways slightly. “It happens all the time.” He says, and, by the look on Hajime’s face, that doesn’t seem to relax him. “I just need you to either lie on top of me or hold me, okay?”

Hajime nods, his hands trembling over Tooru’s. “Okay, where do you need me to hold you?”

Tooru breaks his hands away from Hajime and holds them in between them, watching as Hajime blinks down at them and then back up at Tooru. “I need you to hold my wrists. Put a fair amount of pressure. I need to feel present.”

“Okay.” Hajime agrees, and he takes a deep breath before his fingers close around Tooru’s wrists, applying a fair amount of pressure on them. He looks up at Tooru, who doesn’t seem to be looking into the distance anymore, neither do his eyes seem to be flitting about the room like a trapped butterfly. “Is this okay?” 

Tooru nods quickly. “It’s good. Thank you.”

Tooru feels instantly more at ease with Hajime’s fingers like handcuffs around his wrists—a firm and ever present pressure that isn’t him. They sit for what seems like seconds and days simultaneously, Tooru with his eyes closed resting against Hajime’s chest and Hajime with his hands around Tooru’s wrists resting his chin on Tooru’s head.

“Let’s get you some water.” Hajime says, and Tooru’s heart leaps into his chest in panic at the thought of Hajime breaking contact with him, even for a second. Much to Tooru’s relief, Hajime stands and helps Tooru to his feet with his hands still around his wrists. Although Tooru feels guilty about it, he is glad that Hajime still held onto him.

Hajime leads Tooru into the kitchen, breaking his grip with one of Tooru’s wrists so he can reach into the cupboard for a glass and fill it beneath the tap. Tooru sips slowly and shakily and Hajime patiently waits until Tooru is done before he takes the glass and places it in the sink for him.

“I’m going to let go now, okay?” Hajime says quietly and Tooru takes a moment to gather himself before he nods. 

The moment Hajime’s hands leave him, Tooru feels gone. He sways gently on his feet before he lowers himself to sit on the kitchen floor, and then to lie on his back, the cool wood beneath him heaven on his hot and numb skin. And he feels the cold creeping beneath his joggers and shirt and he lets out a shaky sigh and closes his eyes, hardly noticing the concerned look that Hajime is throwing his way.

Tooru opens his eyes and sends a half-lidded, half-there look to Hajime. “It’s okay.” He says, his voice quiet and dreamlike. “This happens all the time.” 

Hajime lowers himself opposite Tooru, his legs crossed. “Is there anything I can do?” He asks.

“No,” Tooru says with a slow shake of his head. “Just… wait for it to pass.”

“Okay.” Hajime says, and he gives Tooru’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I love you.”

He wishes he could say it back and mean it. But he is gone, like a satellite lost in space, or a submarine beneath the sea—and where he is, whether that be amongst the fish or the stars, nothing can reach him, not emotions, not thoughts, nothing but the chilling loneliness of being entirely numb and weightless.

So, he doesn’t say it back.

Instead he squeezes Hajime’s hand and hopes that he understands. 

* * *

Tooru comes back to himself at two o’clock in the morning, surrounded by the sheets of a bed he doesn’t remember making, and a room that he doesn’t remember putting together. It must have been Hajime who had done it for him. Tooru’s mind strains to bring up the memory of Hajime’s face correctly, it feels too off in some way that he can’t place, and fear creeps into his chest at the thought of not remembering his boyfriend’s face.

Now, more than anything, he wants to see Hajime and memorize the planes of his face.

He slips out of bed and pads across the hall to Hajime’s room, knocking twice quietly before he turns the door knob and pushes the door open, shutting it carefully behind him.

Hajime is nothing more than a shuffling lump in the middle of a bed on the right side of a dark room, and, as Tooru’s eyes adjust quickly to the darkness, Hajime’s head pokes up, squinting as he struggles to make out Tooru’s form. He lets out a mumble that would probably be Tooru’s name if he was anywhere as near awake as Tooru was as Tooru lifts the covers and slips into bed beside him.

Gathering himself, Hajime tries again. “Tooru?” He manages, his voice heavy with sleep.

Tooru lifts his hands to cradle Hajime’s face, tracing his thumb across Hajime’s cheek. “I didn’t remember you.” Tooru says, his voice a whisper between them. “I couldn’t remember your face. It was like I last saw you seven years ago.”

Hajime leans into his touch, presses Tooru’s hand against his cheek with his own hand, holding it there. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

“What color are your eyes?” Tooru asks quietly. “I feel like I’ve forgotten.”

“Green.” Hajime tells him. “Like trees.”

Tooru nods and rests his forehead against Hajime’s. “Thank you.” Hajime presses a kiss to the tip of his nose and Tooru feels the weight of fatigue hit him like a truck. “Can I stay and sleep with you tonight, Hajime? Please?”

“Of course.” Hajime says. “You don’t even need to ask.”

Tooru feels the telltale burn of tears in his eyes and shuffles until his face is pressing into the front of Hajime’s shirt, trying desperately to hide his face and escape the tears threatening to spill over. “You’re so good to me.” He manages against Hajime’s chest. “You’re so good. When I’m like this, or earlier. You’re always… good to me.”

Hajime cards his hands slowly through Tooru’s hair as he gives in and sobs quietly into Hajime’s shirt. “You’re my best friend. You mean the world to me.” He says and Tooru sobs just a little bit harder. “Even if life is unfair and cruel, I will always be good to you.”

“I don’t deserve it.” Tooru says his voice thick with tears. 

“You do.” Hajime says firmly. “And I’m going to keep saying it until you believe it. You deserve all the love and happiness in the world, Tooru. You’ve suffered enough.”

Tooru falls asleep to the sound of Hajime whispering him soft and loving words, his cheeks stiff with fallen tears and Hajime’s arms wrapped around him in comfort. He falls asleep thinking (albeit guiltily) that maybe Hajime is right, maybe he deserves some happiness now. Maybe he has suffered enough.

Maybe he does deserve all the love and happiness Hajime gives him.

He wants to believe it, and so he decides that he will. Whatever it takes.


	2. i only feel happy when i drink / i am broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my bf who beta-ed this chapter for me and called out my spelling mistakes. thanks boo <3

Tooru is seventeen and has the taste of rum on his lips, sweet coconut and chased with pineapple juice— ‘Impromptu pina colada,’ a guy with a pretty face had said. ‘Best kind of way to get drunk.’ —as he pushes through people at this dreadful party. Sweaty bodies are pressed up against each other, girls who are not like the ones that worship him are locking lips with guys or other girls, he doesn’t care much to look and pay attention to who is who.

All he knows is that he’s happy. For the first time in a while.

Music pulsates around him, loud and unforgiving, the lights red and purple and flashing and illuminating the bodies moving around him. He wants fresh air, he feels like he wants to throw up, but, also, he wants to fuck. Finding someone in this climate and his condition would be difficult, though; he’ll just have to settle for his hand once he gets home.  
He came here with some other person, he thinks, but they seemed to have disappeared, and right now there’s a person in front of him, that guy from earlier, the one who gave him two shots of coconut rum and some pineapple juice. He’s short than him by a couple of inches, and Tooru’s sure he’s almost leering at this point.

“This place is too much, wanna get out of here?” He asks and Tooru nods, taking the guy’s hand as he leads him out of the bar and into the cool streets. Under the streetlight Oikawa can see his hair is blond and he has a piercing through his eyebrow. He wonders if he’s pierced anywhere else. “You’re more handsome out here.” He says.

Tooru grins lazily. “Red and purple aren’t really my colours.” He says.

The guy tilts his head, smiles a little. “What is?” He asks.

“Turquoise.” Tooru replies with a smirk, shoving a hand into his pocket. “And white. What about you?”

“Black.” The guy says. “And red. I hope that isn’t wrong. I’m not one of your colors.”

He is teasing now, a playful smirk tugging his lips and Tooru loves it. This man is exactly his type, his color, he’s hoping they’ll hit it off enough for them to fuck. Their hands are still linked and Tooru takes that as a good sign.

“That doesn’t matter.” Tooru says, taking a small step closer, his thumb rubbing over this guy’s knuckles. “I think you’re your own color. And you suit me just fine. What’s your name?” He asks, their faces close. He can see that this man has freckles, faint against his skin but still there, he also has a nose stud. Cool.

The guy grins, chuckles a little. “Charmer.” He says fondly. “My name is Kiba. And yours?”

“Tooru,” Tooru says. “I hope you don’t vape.”

Kiba laughs outright at that. “Really?” he asks once he calms, an amused smile still on his lips. “Why?”

“Because I wanna go over to yours but it would ruin the mood if the entire place smelt like vape liquid.” Tooru says before he can catch up to himself, Kiba looking on amused. “I hope I didn’t get ahead of myself. It’s all up to you. But I hope you don’t vape.”

“I don’t vape.” Kiba reassures him with a careful kiss to his cheek, something that leaves Tooru reeling. He peers up at him with a small, promising smile. “Now that’s out of the way, do you wanna head over to mine?”

Tooru wishes he had the nerve to say no. So, instead, he says yes.

* * *

“I just kind find anything to wear!” Tooru complains, knee deep in clothes and with an annoyed and slightly pissed off Hajime standing in the doorway. He’s already dressed, Tooru notices, in a simple jeans and button down. He pouts. “Seriously, Hajime! It’s hard.”

Hajime sighs a little, but crosses the room and gets down on his knees to help Tooru sort through his clothes. “We’re just meeting Yahaba, Tobio and Sawamura.” He says, picking out some blue ripped jeans, a t-shirt and a flannel for Tooru and handing them to him. “Don’t put so much thought into it.”

Tooru sniffs. “I wasn’t trying to.” He says. “It’s hard. I knew Suga, Mr. Refreshing, in the hospital, Hajime. Did you know? Sawamura used to visit him all the time. I think they’re dating.”

Hajime nods and stands. “I did.” He says, and Hajime doesn’t sound interested in the hospital or the details of Suga and Daichi’s relationship so he decides that he won’t talk about it anymore and looks down at the flannel in his hands. “Get dressed, okay? I’ll be waiting in the living room.”

Tooru nods and Hajime leaves, shutting the door carefully behind him. Tooru sighs and slips out his sweatpants and hoodie and changes into the outfit in his hands before he pads out into the living room to collect Hajime before they put on their shoes in the genkan and exit the apartment.

The clothes are unfamiliar on his skin. He used to wear these jeans – distressed, ripped, black – all the time before the hospital, he hasn’t worn this flannel and shirt in almost two years. He feels like he’s pretending to be who he was before. Hajime takes his hand as they head out of the apartment building and onto the street, and Tooru smiles faintly, giving Hajime’s hand a firm squeeze. He immediately feels more grounded.

As they pass the golden glow of café’s and bars and ramen shops, Tooru peers inwards, smells the thick, rich scent of shoyo broth and alcohol, and sees the business men lined up in rows at the par, red-faced and drinking beer out of crystal clean glasses. As he turns back to the road ahead of him, a group of college students stumble past, drunk and laughing loudly. He used to be just like them.

“Tooru?”

Hajime’s voice shatters his train of thought and he realizes he must’ve paused to stop and stare at the group. He turns back to Hajime. He’s looking at him with a strange look.

“You okay?” He asks.

_ Not really _ , Tooru thinks.

Tooru forces a fleeting smile on his face and nods once. “Yeah.” He says. “Sorry.”

Hajime squeezes his hand. “It’s fine.” He says and Tooru feels a little bit of him die inside. Hajime tugs a little on his hand, urging him forward. “Come on. Ignore them. They’re just stupid college kids; they know they shouldn’t be getting drunk and be inconsiderate.”

Tooru nods and follows, his mind racing as he blanks out the rest of the journey.

His head swirls with thousands of questions. Did Hajime think he was disapproving? Did he think that he was looking because that’s what he thinks Tooru wants? Was he trying to dissuade him from drinking too much? Did Hajime remember Tooru arriving at practice hungover, and still drunk and want to avoid that? Did he see Tooru in those kids?

Tooru sighs. He wants a drink.

Hajime leads him into the restaurant, and Tooru snaps out of his stupor as the air around him changes. He blinks and Hajime is talking to the server at the front, asking something that Tooru can’t make out. The server nods, takes two more menus from behind the computer in front of him and leads Hajime and Tooru through the restaurant.

And then Yahaba is dragging him into a hug and telling him how great it is to see him and Hajime and Tobio are shaking hands and Tooru is livid, and all of it is directed at Tobio. He knows better than to say anything about it. So, he sits when Yahaba and Hajime tell him to, and takes the menu Hajime places in front of him and reads it quickly.

He really, doesn’t want anything to eat. He wants a drink. But he knows Hajime will worry if he doesn’t eat, so when Yahaba calls the waitress over Tooru orders the thin bread Italian pizza and a vodka and coke. Hajime makes a face but Tooru pretends that he doesn’t see. He doesn’t pay attention to what anyone else orders.

‘Tooru,” Yahaba says and Tooru’s head snaps to him, he realizes he needs to smile. And so, he does. “How have you been?”

Tooru opens his mouth to answer truthfully and then pauses, pretends as if he’s thinking as he analyses Yahaba’s tone of voice. It’s the way Hajime used to ask him that before they had a screaming match about it that left Tooru sobbing and Hajime aggressively cleaning the dishes in the sink. It’s pitying and loathing and sad. Tooru fucking hates it.

He forces another smile. “I’m fine.” He says and Hajime eyes him.

Tooru eyes him back. The waitress places the drinks on the table, and Tooru gulps down half the moment she turns and walks away. Hajime frowns and Tooru pretends not to notice him.

Yahaba chuckles. “You’re certainly the Tooru we know and love.” He says and Tooru wants to tell him that Yahaba never knew him, not really. But he doesn’t. “You’re still drinking and being an idiot as always.”

Tooru gives Yahaba one of his signature flirty-fake smiles. “Glad to see I haven’t changed to you, Yahaba!” He says fake-cheerily, Hajime catches on immediately and glares at him to stop. “I’m just the same old Tooru, good old Tooru. Captain Tooru.”

Tooru downs the rest of his glass and Yahaba laughs. “You’re certainly a firecracker.” He says and then he turns to Hajime. “I’m glad to see he’s getting better.”

While Yahaba is facing Hajime, Tooru takes the opportunity to look Tobio directly in the eye as he takes Yahaba’s wine glass and pour half its contents into his own glass. Tobio, unnerved, looks away. Tooru drinks down the vodka-and-coke tasting wine and then scowls.

“ _ He’ _ s right here.” Tooru snaps and Hajime reaches for his hand. “Stop fucking talking about me like I'm not here.”

Yahaba looks taken aback and then he laughs – nervously, Tooru notes happily – and waves a hand dismissively. “My bad.” He says with a sheepish chuckle. “I’m glad you’re doing good now.”

“I’m not doing good,” Tooru says and both Yahaba and Hajime’s eyes widen. Yahaba’s in shock, Hajime in annoyance. “I’m doing fucking awful. I just told you that to get you to fucking shut up about me being broken. But then you pretended as if I was incompetent child and, well, here we are!”

Tooru turns away to call the waitress over and order the fruitiest and most alcoholic cocktail and Hajime moves his hand from Tooru as if he was just touching red hot coals. The waitress returns with the drink and Tooru begins to drink.

The table is silent, and Yahaba drops his gaze from Tooru to Hajime. “Maybe you should take him home.” Yahaba says and anger flares in Tooru’s chest. “I don’t think he’s feeling very well, and I really wanted this dinner to be pleasant and, y’know a get together for all of us—”

“I’m right fucking here!” Tooru growls, punctuating his outburst with the slam of his glass on the table. The cutlery rattles and Tobio looks at him with wide eyes. Tooru scowls at Tobio. “What do you want? Do you want to treat me like a fucking invalid too? Treat me like a child? What do you want to say, Tobio? Go on, you can say it.”

Tobio looks at him a moment, and then begins to toy with his fork. “I’m glad you’re out the hospital.” He says quietly and if Tooru was sane and sober, he’d feel bad for being meant to Tobio. But he’s not either of those things so he fucking hates Tobio. “It’s good to see you again.”

Tooru laughs. “Fuck off.” He says.

Yahaba’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?” He asks. “What the fuck is that for?”

“You’re just pity friends,” Tooru says and he can feel Hajime’s glare burning into the back of his skull. “You don’t fucking care about me. You just care about being good when I’m not psychotic, you care about me being normal again. You don’t care when I cry so much I can’t breathe. You don’t care when I hate myself. You only care when it makes you look good.”

Yahaba stares at him, his mouth wide open. “Tooru, how could you—”

Tooru laughs. “How could I? How could you, Yahaba, you fucking snake.” He says and Yahaba glares. “You told Hajime that I was in hospital. I didn’t want to fucking see him and you ratted me out. You knew what he did to me and you

“I thought it was best for you.” Yahaba says slowly and carefully. Tooru can tell he’s trying so hard to remain calm.

“You don’t know what’s best for me!” Tooru replies loudly. “I know what’s best for me.”

Yahaba eyes him. “What is best for you?” He asks.

Tooru grins, and he knows he’s drunk and that he just wants to get more drunk and even more drunk until he vomits and wakes up in the morning feeling like shit and knowing it’s because of something. Not because of his broken head. And, oh, he feels giddy, on top of the world, so very happy.

And though he knows he shouldn’t speak and ruin his only normal-person friendship, he does anyway.

“What’s best for me is having everyone who treats me like a child, and pities me and doesn’t respect me out of my life.” Tooru says and Yahaba looks taken aback, offended even. “I’m tired of toxic fucking people who belittle me and pretend to be a good friend when it suits them. So what’s best for me is you getting the fuck out of my life, before you blame me for you being a shitty friend.”

Yahaba stares at him for a moment and then stands, abruptly, his chair scraping back. “You’re a piece of work, Tooru.” He says.

Tooru flashes him a toothy grin. “Bite me.” He replies.

Yahaba glares and then snaps his head to Tobio, who shrinks further in his seat. “Tobio?” he asks, and he scowls when Tobio shakes his head. “Fine, stay.” He says, and then he digs in his wallet, pulls out a couple of notes to slam on the table and leaves.

Tooru takes Yahaba’s wine glass and sips. “What a fucking prick, right Hajime?”

“Don’t bring me into this.” Hajime says with a shake of his head. “You’ve got to be polite to him, Tooru. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Tooru frowns at him. “You know what he did to me, Hajime, you saw.” He says as Hajime’s hands tighten into fists on the table. “He was treating me like a child. He doesn’t care—”

“I don’t care, Tooru.” Hajime says. “I didn’t come out to dinner to deal with—” He cuts himself off abruptly and Tooru’s lips press into a thin line. He can already guess Hajime’s words, and feel the frustration and anger and annoyance bubbling beneath his skin.

So, he tests it. Maybe he can get Hajime to hate him. “To deal with what, Hajime?” Tooru asks.

Hajime just shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.” Tooru says and Hajime’s eyebrow twitches. “Go on, Hajime, tell me what you were going to say. Go on.”

Hajime looks pained now, like every time Tooru speaks he’s being stabbed with a tiny needle. His anger is long gone now, guilt taking over as he sighs. “Tooru—”

“Fine.” Tooru interrupts loudly. “I’ll say it! You didn’t come out to dinner to deal with Tooru being a big fucking mess. You didn’t come out to dinner to watch me break off a bad friendship. You didn’t come out to dinner to watch me get drunk. Well, guess what Hajime? Right now, drunk off my fucking balls on vodka and shitty fruit rum, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Hajime winces at that. “That’s not very good.” He says. “Does nothing else make you happy?”

“Nope.” Tooru replies. “Cry me a river.”

Hajime stares at him for a long while. “Don’t I make you happy?” He asks and Tooru really can’t answer that.

Hajime doesn’t get a lot of things. He doesn’t know how to talk to Tooru when he’s having a breakdown, or what to do when he cries. He doesn’t know how to talk about things because Tooru used to never talk about these things with him. Most of it, he thinks, chalks down to Hajime being mental illness free. He’s never known what it feels like to want to die, or how disassociating makes everything warped, or the overwhelming sadness that prevents Tooru from getting out of bed.

But he’s trying his best, at least. He wonders when Hajime trying his best just won’t be good enough anymore.

They have had happy times; Hajime makes him happy. He’s just so tired, and he doesn’t know if Hajime will understand that. Tooru licks his lips and thinks, tries not to notice Hajime’s face falling.

Hajime tries again. “Are you happy with me?” He asks, and Tooru’s heart falls. “Most of the time?”

“I’m…” Tooru begins, hesitating. “Happy enough.”

“What do you mean?” Hajime asks and Tooru thinks that’s a stupid question to ask; even he doesn’t know what he means.

Still, he tries. “I’m just tired.” He says.

“Of me?” Hajime asks.

Tooru considers this. “Not really.” He says quietly. “Just of having to explain myself. Of trying to make you understand. It’s been almost a year, Hajime. And I’m so exhausted of explaining.”

Hajime doesn’t say anything for a while and Tooru just swirls around the wine in Yahaba’s wine glass. When the waitress comes back over with the food Hajime asks for it to go and Tooru’s heart sinks. Tobio is still silent, slumped in his chair, staring resolutely down at his hands, and when the waitress returns with the boxes of food and Hajime pays, Tobio takes his own box.

They exit the restaurant silently, and just as Tooru opens his mouth to say something Hajime turns to him.

“I’m going to go on home.” He says and Tooru feels like he’s done something very wrong. “I’ll leave the door open for you, Tooru. You should… catch up with Kageyama.”

Tooru doesn’t say anything as Hajime turns to walk away, and he watches him go for a while before he turns and heads towards the nearest convenience store, Tobio hot on his heels.

The lights are artificial and they make Tooru’s eyes burn as he heads straight towards the alcohol section, picking up five jars of sake before he turns back to Tobio who is just staring at him. “You want anything?” Tooru asks and he has to stop himself from laughing when Tobio points at a chocolate milk carton.

They leave the shop with Tooru sipping on a jar of shitty sake and Tobio on his milk carton. They make their way to an empty park and sit down on the bench, Tooru has already moved onto his second jar by then.

“I meant what I said.” Tobio says and Tooru’s eyes snap to him. “About being glad you’re out of the hospital. And It is good to see you.”

Tooru gives him a sad smile. “Don’t look, Tobio-chan. Your  _ senpai _ is a disaster.” He gulps down half the jar and then grimaces. “God, how did I get here. I used to hate you, y’know.” He says to Tobio.

Tobio nods and looks down at his straw. “I know.” He says quietly.

“Not in high school,” Tooru says and by the look of Tobio’s wide eyes, he must’ve surprised him. “When I got into the hospital, I met Shouyou. We became friends. I hated you because you broke his heart.”

“I’m sorry.” Tobio says and Tooru laughs.

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.” He says softly. “I’m not the one who’s hurt.”

Tooru moves onto his third jar and Tobio reaches out to take it from him. Not forcefully, but gently, which surprises him enough to slacken his grip to allow Tobio the jar. “Stop drinking, Oikawa.” Tobio says quietly and very, very sincerely. “Please.”

Suddenly, Tooru finds himself crying and he doesn’t know how he got himself into this situation. One minute Tobio had taken his sake from him and the next he wasn’t just crying, but sobbing so hard it hurt to breathe. Tobio places the jar back in the plastic bag at their feet and allows Tooru to fall into his arms and cry into his chest.

“I- I ruined everything with Hajime.” Tooru sobs, clutching at Tobio because he can feel him and he’s real and there and he cares. “He- he hates me… He’s going to break up with me because I’m broken and I can’t do anything right or be happy even for him.”

Tobio strokes Tooru’s hair softly. “He’s not going to break up with you.” Tobio promises him quietly. “You mean so much to him. Just because your head is bad doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you so goddamn much.”

The words are a little stiff, but less so than Tooru would have imagined. And from  _ Tobio _ of all people.

“I should be more… more patient…” He manages to choke out. “I should’ve… should’ve… he doesn’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Tobio asks.

Tooru swallows, sucks in a deep breath and tries to explain himself. “Me,” he says. “My head. He’s trying his best, and I know and he finds it hard. But I do too. It’s so… so hard Tobio. I’m so exhausted. He just doesn’t understand and I’ve tried to help him. I’m just… just… just…”

“Tired?” Tobio offers and Tooru nods into his chest.

“Tired.” He agrees.

Tobio considers all of this with a low hum in his chest as Tooru sniffles pathetically into his chest, tears still leaking down his cheeks. “By this point. He should understand. Because he’s not just here for happy Tooru, he’s here for sad Tooru and depressed Tooru. He’s here for every version of you.” He says as Tooru looks up at him. “Not just the version that’s the most convenient for him.”

Tooru looks at him for a moment. “He’s trying his best, he’s—” Tooru stops himself. “But… if his best isn’t… I’m just making up excuses for…” He places his head in his hand and curls up so tight he’s almost on Tobio’s lap. “I fucking hate myself. Why is this so goddamn hard.”

“I know.” Tobio says. “It’s hard. He just needs to know that he has to step up. And, after tonight and your little show—” That brings a laugh out of Tooru and he watches as Tobio smiles at him. “—he definitely will.”

Tooru tries a faint smile and nudges Tobio with a shoulder. “Really?” He asks.

“Really.” Tobio agrees.

Tooru practically beams. “You’re way nicer than I thought you’d be.” He says and Tobio rolls his eyes,

“And you’re drunk.” Tobio tells him.

“No,” Tooru says very seriously. “I mean it. After Shou told me about what had happened, I was prepared to hate you. But you’re not hate-able at all.”

Tobio shrugs and fixes himself so he has one arm around Tooru. “Well, Shou’s my best friend. I… suppose I was stupid to believe that something wouldn’t come out of us spending every waking hour with each other. And, the way I handled it… well, I’m not very proud of it, let’s say that.” He sighs. “I didn’t handle a lot of Shou very well. Our friendship took a big hit because of it. Two years later we’re not really back to where we were before, and, I think that’s okay; because I know him better now, and we’re good.”

Tooru blinks at him and then groans, collapsing into Tobio’s side with a noise of frustration. “Oh, Tobio.” He says with a sigh. “You’re so much more mature than I am.”

Tobio flashes him a smile. “Well,” He says. “I made a lot of mistakes to be that way.”

Tooru wants to ask him what he means – if it was about Shou, or something else entirely – but he doesn’t get the chance because Tobio stands and helps him to his feet.

“Come on,” Tobio says. “I’ll walk you home.”

* * *

Tooru slips inside the apartment and toes of his shoes quietly, not quite sure if Hajime is asleep or not until he tiptoes into the living room and starts to see Hajime sitting in the pitch blackness, illuminated only by the glow of his laptop screen. Tooru switches on the light and Hajime snaps up, his eyes fixing on him instantly.

“What are you sitting in the dark for, Hajime?” Tooru asks and he is shocked when Hajime gets up and wraps him in a big hug. “H-Hajime? What are you—?”

“I’m sorry.” Hajime interrupts. “For being the way I was. You didn’t need me to be like that towards you and I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I know… I haven’t been the best lately, or ever really…”

Tooru shakes his head and takes Hajime by the arms. “Hajime. You’re doing your best and that all I could ask for you.”

Hajime cups Tooru’s face in his hand, stroking a cheek tenderly. “It just isn’t good enough.” He says and Tooru thinks he’s gonna cry again. “I want to work on that. So, I googled everything you take medicine for, I read up on everything and I want you to know that you’re doing your best right now and that’s so good. And that you really shouldn’t drink on the medicine you’re on.”

Tooru nods and looks down at his feet. “I… I drank because… I hadn’t taken my medication.” He explains, and Hajime’s silence is deafening. “I won’t do it again! I was having a bad night, I… I… I’m sorry, Hajime, I—” Hajime cuts him off with another hug.

“It’s okay.” Hajime tells him. “You don’t have to apologize. Everything is okay.”

Tooru sniffs and leans into the hug. “I ruined your evening.” He says.

“Yahaba was being a prick.” Hajime says and Tooru laughs. “I’m going to text him tomorrow and tell him to never speak about you or to you like that again. Did you have a good time with Kageyama?”

“Yes.” Tooru tells him with a small smile. “He was a strange comfort.”

Hajime presses a kiss to Tooru’s cheek and pulls back with a grin. “I’m glad.” He says. “Are you hungry? I put our takeout in the fridge. Plus, I suspect you’re going to not feel every good in the morning so you should eat something.”

Tooru nods and follows Hajime into the kitchen. “I’m starving.” He says before he groans. “And I am not looking forward to the headache tomorrow.

Hajime laughs, and its music to Tooru’s ears

* * *

Sometimes Tooru wakes up in the morning remembering Kiba.

For a while, Kiba was who Tooru would call if he wanted a quick fuck or to make himself feel worse through sex. Kiba did vape, Tooru later found out, but it didn’t matter much anymore. So, he kept going to his regardless of whether it smelt like vape liquid or not, and then his team would question him about the boy who would pick him up from practice.

Kiba was a part of Tooru’s life that wasn’t very good. The only time he felt good was when they were fucking. Sure, Kiba was sweet and kind and treated him like a prince, and never did anything Tooru didn’t want to; he adored him for that. But the worst thing he remembers is that when Tooru got sad at Kiba’s, or depressed or disassociated, it always ended with them fucking. It wasn’t like Tooru didn’t want to, either, he did, but only because he knew he’d feel good at the end of it.

That night, when he came home to Hajime, they ate dinner and fell asleep together. They didn’t fuck. They didn’t make out. They didn’t grind or feel each other up. They just watched shitty documentaries and cuddled until they fell asleep.

And, to Tooru, that felt better than all those nights with Kiba combined.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [ cherry-kirsch ](cherry-kirsch.tumblr.com) || twitter: [ cherriwrites ](https://twitter.com/cherriwrites)


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